Zampese learned coaching life from father

Ken Zampese never wanted to be seen as having a job handed to him, so he works that much harder at coaching.(Photo: Enquirer file)

Growing up the son of a coach can be challenging.

Beyond normal hurdles of maneuvering through development and transition into a man comes the expectations of success based upon the accomplishments that preceded you.

Then try growing up like Bengals quarterbacks coach Ken Zampese, the son of a coach who revolutionized the modern passing game. The prospect could be downright intimidating.

Zampese’s father Ernie helped change the face of the NFL offense working as a coordinator repeatedly cranking out top-ranked attacks. Ken grew up scampering in the shadows of his father’s practices, but couldn’t speak today about such pressure. He can’t speak about pressure never applied to him.

Games would never be followed with a list of criticisms or evaluation of plays gone awry. Not with Ernie playing the role of dad.

“He’s so far different,” Ken said. “He’s so understanding because he’s been in that role so many times. He’ll ask about stuff, but never in such a way that makes it tense. Not his style. Always on the lighter side.”

Everyone can tell an Ernie story, says Ken, now 46. He’ll likely share a few Sunday on Father’s Day. He’s heard oodles of them weaving his way through 17 years of NFL coaching and nine years rising in the college ranks. The tales stem as much from an affable personality as offensive achievement.

Those stories flowed around NFL circles this week as Peter King and the Pro Football Writers of America recognized Ernie in the four-person inaugural class receiving the The Paul “Dr. Z” Zimmerman Award for lifetime achievement for NFL assistant coaches.

The case for 78-year-old Ernie can’t be debated.

As receivers coach for Don Coryell from 1978-83 in San Diego, Zampese’s group finished first in passing offense all five seasons. He went on as an offensive coordinator in the league from 1986-1999 developing quarterbacks such as Dan Fouts, Jim Everett, Drew Bledsoe and Troy Aikman. He earned a ring directing Aikman and the Cowboys in 1995.

With an expansive breadth of knowledge at his fingertips and a childhood spent growing up around the game, Ken still never thought he’d end up following in his father’s footsteps as he has today.

“I was going the other way,” Ken said. “I’m through college thinking there’s no way.”

“I never expected him to go into coaching,” Ernie said. “Gosh, when he did I was sort of shocked.”

An intriguing development occurred once Ken left the temporary oasis of graduate school placing a delay on entry into the working world. Suddenly, an interest sparked in coaching as a graduate assistant. He’d spent his youth almost never asking about strategy, offense or the intricacies of how his father excelled as a coach.

“I really didn’t know anything and was embarrassed to ask,” Ken said.

Once gaining a minor understanding of the coaching game, however, an eye-opening appreciation arrived. At first came the full understanding of how much his father knew about the game of football and the continuous string of questions as Ken’s passion grew for the game. But then came understanding of the reverence colleagues felt.

“I had no idea until I got into coaching because you don’t know,” Ken said. “You know your dad is coaching and offenses are good and all that stuff, but unless you are in the sport to know how people regard him, I had no idea until a few years in.”

Thus enters the other interesting element of the father-son dynamic. Ernie desired to see his son succeed, but knew it couldn’t come by virtue of his favor. It had to be earned.

“I certainly didn’t help him get any jobs,” Ernie said. “He got those all on his own with other people helping him. I just know that him being my son, I was very careful about trying to help him get jobs. I just didn’t do it. I know a lot of people do that. But I didn’t.”

Empathetically, Ken roots for other coaches’ sons, understanding the difficulty. Nobody wants to be viewed as receiving opportunity solely because of lineage.

In fact, Ken never worked for or with his father. The closest he came was for three years in St. Louis with Mike Martz and the Greatest Show on Turf. Martz utilized the Air Coryell offense Ernie helped perfect. The Rams’ passing game led the NFL in yards in 2000 and 2001.

Ken’s last 12 years have been spent as quarterbacks coach for the Bengals overseeing the development of Jon Kitna, Carson Palmer and Andy Dalton.

The evolution of those players was born in long days spent working individually. Reps before practice. Reps after practice. Late nights in the film room. All part of establishing his own identity.

“When you do get into coaching the perception is you got handed everything because of your dad’s success and that you didn’t work for anything or earn anything, so in some ways you have to work harder to make sure nobody can say that about you,” Ken said.

As happens when sons grew into men, the roles in life often reverse. Now, once a week the two will talk on the phone. In the summer, Ken and his family head out to San Diego, where Ernie happily lives out his retirement years. Once a season, Ernie will fly in for a game. The conversations sound much different now than decades ago.

“He would have so much patience with me when I’m in college and I’m going down the whole offensive roster,” Ken said. “How’s this guy doing? How’s he doing with this? How’s he handling this? And I’d work him over for a good half hour on the roster. Now the roles are reversed and it’s terrific because I am patient in answering all the things he wants to know and letting him know what we are doing over here.”

Pride and patience feel equally palpable in the voices of father and son. Ken’s tone glows speaking about his father’s award and the career which led to it.

Ernie perks up when an opportunity comes to laud his son.

“He’s a real sharp young man,” he said. “I’m very proud. He loves football and works hard at it and that’s all you can ask of anybody.”

The life of coaches and coaches’ sons can indeed be difficult. But in the Zampese football family, the difficulty never arose. Perhaps that’s because, for them, succeeding in football rarely had much to do with the game. It had to do with being father and son. It had to do with being people first. It had to do with a way Ernie embraced most tasks, but enjoying the lighter side.

“Those (football lessons) are way more secondary to how you treat people, have fun, enjoy the game, enjoy the personalities,” Ken said. “It’s about relationships. Surround yourself with those kind of people where the atmosphere is fun. The atmosphere was always fun and enjoyable.” ⬛